Tension licked through my nerves as his mouth moved down to my collarbone, licking, sucking, breathing alternately hot and cold on my neck. His two fingers slid into my body and I whimpered as he let his teeth graze my shoulder, his lips soft and delicious and sinful, oh so sinful.
He moaned along with me as his fingers thrust deeper, then out again. His breath matched my own. It had been my choice to kiss this man and I had chosen wrong, and the penalty was the ache that he sent running through my limbs as his fingertips pressed down into me, the ache that rose and rose, never bursting, no, every time I was close he retreated and I twisted in his arms, unable to find release.
He kissed the side of my jaw as his fingers worked into me, the pressure inside of me mounting and mounting, like heat would expand out the air in a balloon. I was stretched thin, my nerves vibrating with pure desire. God, I would never admit this later, but the desire that tore at me cared nothing about the man making me desire him, cared nothing about his innocence or guilt. It wanted only release. So much pressure. So much.
My hips bucked against his hand, water splashing at the sides of the tub. Suddenly, he was gone. I gasped as he pulled his hand back, his fingers one second there and the next second not, and my body felt so empty, so open. I clutched for his arm but he was already drying off.
“What… why…” I stammered. He gazed at me levelly, and my protests died in my throat. Who was I to ask him for satisfaction? Guilt flooded my body, and my cheeks turned hot, hotter than the water in the tub that was already cooling off. We had been in the bathroom for a long time, and the suds from the shampoo had already been absorbed back into the bathwater.
“Why did you do it?” he asked.
“What?”
“Why did you try to kill yourself?”
I bit back a thousand replies. He had already gotten an answer from me, but apparently that wasn’t the one he wanted.
“Why do you care?”
“I’m so used to people begging me to let them live. It’s interesting to see that you swing the other way. You want to die.”
“I don’t,” I said. Tears welled in my eyes - more from the ache still racking my body than from any kind of emotion. I needed release, and I wasn’t going to get it, and damned if I was going to beg him. “Not anymore.”
“What changed, kitten?” His voice was soft, sympathetic, and if I didn’t know what he was I would have loved him then, even as I hated him for bringing me to the edge and leaving me there.
“Death wasn’t going to make things any better for me,” I said bitterly. “I decided to stay alive. I was going to leave my family. I was going to go to college. Get a good job. Get a good life. Of course, that was before a serial killer locked me in his basement and tortured me.”
“Hardly torture. You flatter me.”
I stared at him, mouth agape.
“You tied me up—”
“And what? Brought you close to the best orgasm you’ll ever have? Such torture. I didn’t let you finish? Come, now, kitten. Don’t tempt me to show you what real torture is.”
I clamped my mouth shut. I had no doubt that he knew how to torture. He had tortured that professor for days before killing him. My mind saw again the body on the table, the slashes, and bile rose in my throat. How could I have let this monster touch me like that?
“You wouldn’t try to kill yourself again, would you?”
“Maybe,” I shot back. “How long are you going to keep me prisoner here?”
“You’re not a prisoner, you’re a trespasser on my property. You’ve fallen into a hole in the forest. You probably won’t ever get out. It’s not bad. It’s just life.”
“Life in a cage is not a life.”
“You’re mixing your metaphors, kitten.”
“I’m not your kitten,” I spat. “You can dress me up and feed me and give me baths like I’m your pet, but I’ll never be your pet.”
He held out a towel to me, and I grabbed it and wrapped it around my body quickly. The ache between my thighs made my legs shake as I stood. He chuckled.
“It’s a good thing your wrists aren’t hurt, kitten.”
“Why?”
“We’re not going back to the basement.”
Gav
She dried herself off quickly, then knotted the towel under her armpit. Her body was wonderful, the curve of it under the terry cloth. I licked my lips as I thought about how she would taste.
“Are you going to kill me?” she asked. Her voice was trembling, but there was still a hint of desire in there, as much as she tried to hide it.
“You keep asking me that. Does it really matter?”
“Of course it matters,” she said.
“This entire time in the bathtub, you were talking about how life doesn’t matter. How boring it is.”
She bit her lip. Oh, my. I would have to kiss her right there. I wanted to bite her lip, too.
“I don’t want to die.”
“I don’t want to kill you, kitten,” I said, smiling kindly, or so I hoped. “Behave, and I won’t have to.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kat